Understanding
by Kaldrake
Summary: A young Blood Elf struggles to acclimate and survive after the Sunwell's corruption. Finding herself stranded in Outlands, she turns to the only source available for protection and aid. Read note and warnings. No defined pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Note**: This story has references within which may be confusing to some who have not read the original that this is continuing from. It is with a purpose that the original is not posted here, as it is not safe for reading by minors or those finding certain things offensive. If you have questions regarding this, please send me a private message; questions asked in Review will be ignored.

As such, this story revolves around an Original Blood Elf Character, as well as NPCs of the game, and contains mentions and situations of a troubling and/or adult nature. Please mind the rating and the warnings. While this contains, to my knowledge, no violations of the ToS, some may find some of the subject matter upsetting.

That out of the way, some Warcraft and World of Warcraft fans might note some discrepancies in lore. This is from my own lack of knowledge, and use of creative license. Wowwiki is quite god-like in the information it contains, and yet, the time-lines and specific descriptions and explanations are somewhat lacking; I do what I can to stick to the lore while attempting to fill in gaps.

That being said, this story takes place sometime after the fall of Quel'thalas, but before Illidan takes the Black Temple and entraps Magtheridon beneath Hellfire Citadel.

**Warnings: **Mentions of Rape, Violence, Language, Minor Sexual Situations and subject matter, Homosexuality (both male and female), Substance Abuse (Does demon blood technically count as a drug?), Blood Drinking, OOC Behavior of NPCs (This being that, outside of World of Warcraft encounters, I have read none of the novels, and have not played WC3, there-for I only have WoWwiki to go on for character personality)

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**-Chapter One-**

_'Many a curious circumstance we all find ourselves in upon one instance or another within our lifetimes. Some mundane, some far more important than even we ourselves could ever realize. _

_Dievas Shadoweaver little knew of her own significance after the unfortunate incident involving her close encounter with a demon of the Legion. Around her, her world had already been crumbled to its foundations and rebuilt twice over, and yet such things always seem to happen thrice of circumstance or happenstance. Battered and broken by her brutal treatment and enslavement, still, her inner strength shined through even despite all hardship forced upon her by her own race after such a happening. _

_Verily I confess I broke protocol and interfered during my supposed strict observation. How could one witness such travesty and misdeed, and not be moved to lend aid to the wronged? At the time, I already knew of her fate and place amidst the future of her path. Chromie would call it interfering, and yet, I myself would happily and willfully address it simply as aiding time along on its chosen stream. _

_Imagine Rommath's surprise as a mere Priest whispered into his ear of the violations being committed by his own Magisters! But I digress, I do make habit of getting ahead of myself.' _

o0o0o0o0

Catching up to the little train was proving more difficult than the slight figure was willing to admit. Despite her lack of true skills in tracking, the prints in the sparse sand were laughably easy to single out. One had to wonder at whether they were deliberate ruse or simply careless mistakes. The tell-tale marks made by the Naga, rather like snake tracks, though their size was telling. Boot treads, as well as those made by beasts of burden.

As it became apparent, they were indeed a crafty ruse constructed to throw pursuit off track, as she was forced to evade tainted orcs and savage, yet seemingly intelligent, beasts. Barely healed wounds cried out forcibly with every move she made, but yet, she refused to give up. Damn the healers back in the tattered remains of Quel'thalas. Damn the nagging, empty, distressing ache caused by the lack of magical energy. And damn the Magisters for forcing her out before her time.

A dark shudder wracked through her, as she fought and failed to suppress the memories. Haunting laughter floated through her mind; though obviously construed by her own imagination. Ghostly claws wracked down her back, her jaw ached with phantom agony, and her undergarment moistened with remembered terror and pain. Shaking, she stuttered to a halt and fell to her knees, unable to quite stifle a keening cry. Though any thought or sensation of tears were quickly forced away by biting down on the inside of her cheek.

Hand drifting against her will, she clutched her right wrist in a steely grip, embracing the sting and jolt of pain caused by one of two wounds from the encounter which had refused to heal. A filthy bandage hid both from view, but she was ever aware of its presence. Simply the knowledge of it caused feelings of sickness to roil in her stomach, without the pulsating pain and disgusting _wrong _feeling they gave off.

Forcing herself to her feet, she pressed on. While she had been unable to join Prince Kael'thas immediately due to illness caused by the withdrawal, and later, the... incident... she more than would now. If not by her own want, then the necessity. The remaining Magisters of Silvermoon City had been less than pleased at the near encounter she had caused with a demon of the Burning Legion. Fearing she would cause further trouble, or that her new 'wounds' would somehow hold power, they had forced her from their borders.

Broken and defeated, she had been escorted to the edge of the Ghost Lands in exile by a small group of Magisters. To her shock, Rommath, agent of the Prince, had followed. Lending veiled words of comfort and promises of Outlands. He had claimed that perchance Kael's allies might help in discovering how to remove the brands, or sever any bonds they may represent. At the least, he told her, the paradise would ease her exhaustion and put her hunger to rest. Once free of the Magisters, she was met by a group of mages who had summoned a portal to Outlands. Seeing no choice, and bolstered by Rommath's words, she had gone through willingly.

Now she cursed him as well, stumbling slightly over cracked earth. Rather than appearing in what one may have imagined 'paradise' to be, or at the least, appearing with the latest group of pilgrims, she had been flung out in the middle of this barren wasteland and forced to catch up. She now knew the trail she followed to be false, and failed to realize her direction at this point, as night and day seemed to mean nothing here.

Figuring by her own bone-weariness, and the change of the skies, she knew that she had been wandering for close to four days. Her throat was parched, and belly ached with hunger. Few plants marred the landscape, and fewer still held moisture suitable for keeping one alive. So too, she was nearly helpless in this alien place.

Naught but a dagger and arcane reagents were thrown at her feet before her former kin had begun the march back to the city. Unsuitable for bringing down a beast for food. Despite her stoic and indifferent, forced, attitude, she was honestly too afraid to call upon her own imp. Such was humiliating, but she never could quite bring herself to complete the uttered phrase of summons.

Thinking upon it all (forcibly avoiding thoughts of one topic in particular), she felt overwhelmed beyond belief. Without some sign or aid she would surely perish before the week's end. Squinting into the distance, she paused. Something glinted atop a rise still some distance away. Had she at last caught up, or was it simply an illusion conjured by her wandering mind? Or a trap, she silently thought to the trail she had abandoned. Little choice could be afforded however, she would have to investigate to be certain. As it happened, her decision was shaken from her grasp before she could take a single step.

The distinct sound of a bow being drawn reached her ears, causing her to flinch and tense, hands raising slightly in a placating manner to whomever had sneaked up behind her. There was a long pause during which she considered whether she would have the magical strength to defend herself, before her would-be captor finally spoke. His voice alone sent a wave of relief through her before she could even register the words. It held a distinct tone often not found outside of Quel'thalas itself.

"M'lady, what is your purpose here? You are not with the latest caravan...?"

Turning slowly, she could have wept but for the show of weakness it would have made. There, bow drawn and standing with a brash display of arrogance, was a Blood Elf. He appeared road-worn, but his armor was recently tended, and he looked to be in good health. He drew in a sharp breath at seeing her face, and she had to wonder with a bit of fear if news of her actions had reached even this far. Such a thought was unfounded however, as he quickly stayed his weapon and jogged the few yards to her, tearing a skein from his belt and offering it with concern.

The first trickle of water past her lips nearly sent her into a coughing fit, so parched was her throat. As she drank, the strange elf made a gesture in the air, glowing sigils following the motion of his finger. It seemed to be some sort of sign, as almost immediately the sound of hooves could be heard upon the earth. Five others soon joined them, riding horses of a strange breed, leading two others behind. They seemed surprised at her appearance, but simply shot their companion questioning glances rather than comment.

The one who found her seemed to be the small band's leader, as they waited patiently for his direction. Before she quite knew what was happening, she found herself spirited onto the back of a mount, her fellows leading the reigns as they made their way at a slow trot back to their base. The sudden shock of water in her system after days without came as both a relief and a further stress, as it seemed to kick her sleepless body into a sense of normality, dead tiredness taking her over and urging her to sleep. Little did she trust her new companions however, and she forced herself to stay as alert as she could, the jostling of the animal beneath her aiding in such a respect.

Taking little more than an hour, a small cluster of tents and wagons eventually came into view, and the group seemed pleased. Obviously they had reached their destination. As they drew closer, she spotted a banner flying proudly near the center of the camp, bearing a design which she did not recognize. Though the appearance of more of her race soon made her put such from her mind.

They were greeted at the perimeter by armed protectors and obvious civilians alike, many of which looked after her with confusion as she clumsily dismounted with aid. Tense and gritting her teeth at her display of weakness before so many, she none the less tolerated it, recognizing her body's frailty at the moment. The leader carefully pushed through the small gathering, clearing the way for her in subtle manner, of which she was grateful. She eyed the others as she passed, picking out their clothing and assessing the danger.

She needn't have worried. As they drew closer to the center of the camp, she realized that many of them appeared to be pilgrims of a sort; some bearing obvious signs of withdrawal, others appearing haggard and strained. This was obviously one of the caravans she had hunted after. A large fire had been conjured by someone, yards from the pole which held the strange insignia. A kettle rested in the hot coals, the most delicious scent she had ever encountered drifting from within. The rather savage growl from her stomach shook much of the fog from her brain.

Seeing the direction of her stare, the elf urged her towards the fire, motioning silently for her to sit as he knelt and produced a ladle from beside the pot. Barely repressing a noise of eager impatience, she immediately divested him of it once he had filled it with the soup. It was thick, and richly spiced with herbs and strange vegetables. Conscious of her audience, as well as the heat coming off the mixture, she was forced to pause her instinctive urge to stuff herself with the lot.

Needs seen to, the man sat beside her and raised an expectant eyebrow, "We were unaware that any others would be coming after us. Did you become separated from another group?"

Taking a small sip of the mixture to give herself time to think, she weighed her options. Should she tell him the truth, or a farce? Her wounds flared to life, searing as if newly given, setting her hands to shaking and nearly upsetting her hold of the food. The decision, once more, was out of her hands. She needed to join the main base and hold council with whoever would have her.

Voice rough from disuse, she spoke strongly despite her ordeal,

"I come on orders from Rommath. I am to seek out Prince Kael'thas and hold council. The mages who dispatched me seem to have been off in their calculations."

That seemed to shock the few who mingled close, obviously eavesdropping. Some even shot her looks of mild scorn, taking in her bedraggled and battered state. Non the less, the one who's opinion mattered simply nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face. He signed to a near by mage, who scrambled to his feet and made his way over with an air of faulty self-importance. He looked just as drained as everyone else in this encampment. Quietly, her rescuer explained,

"Many of our camps are constantly on the move, hoping to rejoin our Lord with haste. I find myself unsurprised that our locations are so hard to pinpoint by those on Azeroth. Mior," Said addressing the mage. "Please send word to our fellows at Base. A portal needs to be opened, and despite your strength, I believe our guest would like the added assurance of extra magic fueling her journey."

Puffing up with pride and smugness, Mior nodded and sat down a few feet way. Etching sigils into the ground around him, they glowed only faintly with power. Dievas could very well see that he barely held enough energy to communicate across distance, let alone open a portal on his own. She silently nodded approval to her as of yet unknown companion. He winked at her and motioned for her to finish her fare.

She did so eagerly, downing the heavenly meal in little time at all as she kept an eye on the arcanist. While she disapproved of catering to weakness in others, she more than understood the need for it at the moment. Everyone was weak currently, some more-so than others as the lack of the Sunwell's energy sent them into magical withdrawal. Bodies, minds, and souls craving and yearning for a substance which was now unavailable, save to those already shown the way by Kael'thas and Rommath. The very young and the very old had been the first to perish from it. The few who had survived the scourge invasion that was.

Snapping from her disturbing thoughts and recollections, she blinked as Mior nodded seemingly to himself, muttering under his breath as he got to his feet and brushed off his robes. He turned and nodded to the two of them before sweeping the previous marks from the dirt and beginning anew. These symbols she recognized more readily as the base for a teleportation spell. Uncertainty wavered at the edge of her mind. What had the mage told the others about her arrival? Would she need to continue with the white lie of being sent specifically to Kael'thas?

Not that it would be difficult to keep up appearances, she mentally assured herself. Unless someone contacted Rommath regarding her presence. Only a mild tick of the jaw showed her inner turmoil as at last the rune work was complete. Following Mior's direction, she sat the ladle down and stood, stepping carefully into the small circle and holding her breath.

Too late to back out now. A violent tug and shimmer of arcane, and she was gone.

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Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any characters histories, settings, etc., which are recognizable as belonging to Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or off-shoots of the Blizzard franchise. No monetary or material gain is being made from this fan work.


	2. Chapter 2

Having closed her eyes to stave off vertigo during the strained travel, Dievas acted upon instinct when a hand suddenly latched itself to her upper arm. Rearing about to face the perceived threat, she threw a hand towards the stranger's face. A sickly crunch and muffled cry of pain was greeted with stifled snorts of laughter from others nearby. Startled, she wrenched her eyes open and took in her new surroundings.

Large trees and even larger mountains loomed in the distance, catching her eye even before the source of her previous distress. Such was an extremely welcomed sight after her wander in the wastes; so too, stars clearly loomed overhead, the sky dark and strange constellations apparent. Quiet cursing snapped her attention back to the matter at hand. A group of healthy mages formed a loose circle around her, strong glowing runes beneath her feet, and one mage on the ground clutching a bleeding and oddly burnt nose.

She would have felt poorly for her action save for the fact she felt it justified. Who in their right mind would startle a survivor of the fall of Quel'thalas without expectation of a reaction? Ignoring him once more, as two others helped him to his feet and lead him away, she turned and stared with veiled astonishment. Expecting some sort of crude camp, instead she was met with the sight of a magnificent tower fashioned after the spires of Silvermoon, smaller out-buildings erected around it. They shimmered smoothly even in the dim light of campfires and torches. From the air of strong energy they gave off, she knew they must have been newly fashioned. But how?

Shaken from her observation, one of the mages stepped carefully forward and gave a slight bow. Amusingly, he stayed out of arms reach. He straightened and looked her over critically, noting her tangled, filthy hair, and ragged clothing. She bristled as he sniffed in disdain, though any thought to speak was cut off as he commented.

"Mior stated that you were sent to speak with Kael, but he failed to mention your state. Come. My Lords are expecting you... Mournfully there is no time to address your appearance. Simply know that it shames us all for you to be seen by the Lord looking as a common street urchin."

Nails dug sharply into the palms of her hands as she fought not to punch him, encase him in a tomb of flame, or otherwise harm an obvious representative of the last of the Sunstrider line. She doubted the action would endear her into getting help regardless. Seething anger roiled in her chest, causing the brands to flare briefly. The vile feel of them served to at least stifle any physical or verbal response to the barb.

Following the stiff-backed mage at the least served to allow her ample opportunity to observe her surroundings to a more thorough extent. Out of her element and alone, the simple reminders of her old home caused mild waves of nostalgia. The torches and fires were obviously of magical nature, as no fuel was apparent, and they burned steadily despite mild gusts of wind whipping through the valley. Gold and red glittered faintly on the white stone of the buildings, and once more she had to wonder at their construct.

Everyone at this camp seemed healthy and in good spirits, if a touch on edge. Many eyed her strangely as the two strode through a commons at the center of the circle created by the structures. There appeared to be warriors and soldiers, decked out in polished golden armor reminiscent of the Magisters of Silvermoon City. Mages in robes of fine fabrics, power radiating from decorative staves and daggers at their sides. Weariness and unease stole through her as she even spied a group of mixed warlocks, some with mere imps, but one or two coveted close to tall, dark-skinned women of terrible beauty. Even simply glimpsing the horns and wings caused fear to coil in her guts.

Humiliated at her own instinctive reactions, she walked a touch faster, catching up to the dower mage and walking beside him as an equal, much to his disgust and upturned nose. The obvious snub made her lip curl into a sneer, once again fighting the urge to set his robes ablaze. That she was banished and scorned within Quel'thalas was one thing, but to be spurned by someone who knew nothing of her deeds was quite another. To be certain, once she knew of his true status within the camp, she would more than correct his attitude.

They neared the largest of the buildings, one with a grand spire rising tallest over even the nearest trees. The door sported a privacy net of the finest gold fabric she had ever lain eyes on. Temptation built to reach out and touch it, however the pompous mage glaring at her as he rapped upon the side of the frame stayed the urge. An impatient and achingly familiar voice reached her ears, ordering them to enter.

Prince Kael'thas looked to be in better health and spirits than when he first left the ruins of the city, seeking to help his people find another source of magic. Strong and healthy, if a bit stressed, he glanced up with a frown as the mage stepped in before Dievas and bowed deeply. She could nearly feel the ooze coming off him as he uttered words of devotion while surreptitiously glancing around the room. Following his example, she saw that it was empty, save a translocation orb, and tables piled high with parchments and artifacts. Only the Prince seemed present, and for some unfathomable reason, the leech seemed disappointed.

"My Prince, the woman," He sneered. "seeking audience from the last caravan has arrived... Apologies if it is too bold to ask, but... where is Lord Illidan?"

That provoked a scowl from the golden elf. Slamming a delicate looking crystal to the table, he whirled upon the startled arcanist. Dievas found herself shying away at the ugly look on the beloved leader's face, though she quickly stilled as she realized the wrath was in no way directed at her. Straightening her back, she adopted a look of careful neutrality, fighting the smirk that wanted to break through at the Prince's words towards the rat.

"Has prolonged existence without magic up until now completely fried your memory? As I stated only this morning, Lord Illidan has forged ahead to scout with the naga! We can not claim the Temple blindly! Unless you think _you _could perhaps boldly tread into prime Legion territory with nary your eyes for guidance?"

The condescending sneer seemed to cause the mage to physically shrink, so low had his over extravagant bow taken him with each word that left the Prince's lips. Would that the situation were not so serious, nor the source of such amusing remarks a leader, as she nearly shook from efforts not to applaud. Wariness reemerged in full as she shifted on her feet with pain, drawing attention from the seemingly volatile Sunstrider. While the harsh look lessened in no discernible way, still, his focus turned back to the arrogant one.

"Have you no decency in addition to no spine? Simpleton. Neglecting a guest's obvious needs simply highlights your incompetence. Had you even bothered to _ask _if she needed food or a bath or medical attention? No, don't bother answering. Just get out of my sight. Have a cook prepare something for our guest, and secure a cot for her in the barracks."

Never before had she witnessed a mortal move so fast as the mage did in his mad scramble out the door. Forced to step further inside or risk being trampled, she allowed a mild fidget of discomfort, gaze fixated to the floor as she was scrutinized. Peeking up at him through tangled bangs, his features softened as an exhausted sigh escaped him. Without a doubt, he sounded as tired as she felt, which was surprising. Dispensing of formalities, Kael rubbed a hand over his face and gestured towards one of the few seats left uncluttered within the room.

"I apologize... soundly, for you having witnessed that. You find yourself here during a bit of an upset and I fear I am on my last nerve. Please, have a seat. You appear as death warmed over. Has something happened to your party?"

Tentatively accepting the offer, she could not deny that at last being allowed to rest was a comfort to her aching muscles. Even the hard-backed chair nearly caused her to doze during the lull after the question. A clearing of the throat caused her to startle, and with a jolt she realized that her traitorous body had nearly fallen asleep while in the presence of Kael'thas himself. Too pale skin darkening with a blush, and she blinked at him, looking genuinely contrite. To her amazement however, he simply seemed more concerned and amused, though there was annoyance also clearly displayed in his posture.

Struggling to recall the inquiry, she rushed to respond, feeling foolish. "No, nothing has happened... Simply the mages who transported me to these lands miscalculated where the camp would be... I wandered for days before scouts found me, and was sent here straight away once we reached their base."

Frowning and leaning back on the table, he glanced her over. The tinge to her skin darkened, though she remained patient despite her dire urge to fidget or stare right back. At long last he shook his head, once again looking tired. Turning his back to her, he reclaimed the crystal which previously had been abused. Gazing deeply into it, he absently spoke over his shoulder. The lapse in attention sent a surge of irritation through Dievas, however she controlled it rather well, considering her own long tattered nerves and emotions. Being outright disregarded was far better than being ridiculed.

"Why would the mages send you alone, and not simply wait for the next wave of recruits?"

The wording of such a question struck her as odd. '_Recruits_'? Thinking back to previous comments, and the state of this base, she shrugged it off. Obviously this was a new land which was occupied by the Burning Legion, among other possible threats, of course they would need trained fighters to stave off attacks. Or to launch offensive maneuvers if such were their intent. However it brought about an entirely new, far more unnerving problem for her.

"... Rommath sent me to seek guidance and information."

The only reaction was a flicked ear and small shrug, "Oh? What makes you so special, and worth my time? This camp does not run itself, nor will the Legion vanish without aid simply by my sitting here chatting."

Gritting her teeth, she fought to keep a civil and even tone. The Prince had a valid reason to dismiss a commoner showing up, claiming to have important matters to address. Everyone had problems which they felt were important, and he was a busy man. Rather than waste breath attempting to explain where she knew she was liable to stutter and prove herself for a fool, she stood slowly and approached the occupied leader. Her steps were heavier than normal, giving away the move, though it was her intent in this case.

Turning quickly, he speared her with a slightly incredulous glare, as if to ask who she was to dare approach him without leave. Still maintaining her silence, she stripped off the worn bandage upon her wrist, and thrust the appendage towards him, wrist up. Startled, his ire slipped away after a moment of gazing down at the burnt and bloodied mess of a symbol marring her flesh. The wound indeed looked fresh, despite having been tended by healers merely a week ago.

Silence encompassed the room as he slowly reached up with his own hand to grasp her arm, turning it more towards the torch light for a better look. She did not protest despite calloused fingers digging in. Simply she was glad he seemed to realize the significance of it without having to be told. After nearly ten minutes of baited silence, the Prince's grasp tightened a bit before he released her, stepping away to pace restlessly. The patch of skin, and the brands, tingled unpleasantly.

"Where did you get that? -Who?"

Dreading the direction which such questions would take her, she non the less answered. Her voice seemed to refuse to climb to more than a murmur, forcing him to pause and listen carefully. She felt as if the entire camp might be listening and laughing at her for the moment, so difficult it was for her to force the words past her parched lips.

"I... A demon attacked me near the borders of the Ghostlands a week and a half ago." Clenching her jaw, she decided to keep herself from further humiliation by simply stating things plainly, rather than allow him to drag the truth out of her like some scolded child. "A Doomguard of the Legion. He... brutalized me, and intended to enslave me by these marks."

Surely he would gain a picture simply from that alone. No need for detailed depictions of just how far the 'brutalizing' went. Detaching herself from the past flow of events seemed to aid in desensitizing her to her normal reactions at being forced to speak of it. The same tactic she had attempted to use while it was taking place... She twitched visibly and mentally scowled at herself.

Thankfully her stilted explanation indeed seemed to be enough for the lord, as he nodded slowly, face blank. Brows furrowed, he gestured towards her arm though did not reclaim his grip on it, as he spoke, "You felt a strange sensation?" He did not wait for affirmation. "The link is inactive... Nothing to worry about. It is good that Rommath saw the wisdom of sending you here, as it would have proved dangerous should it have worked."

Relief swept through her at hearing such words. As while the remaining healers in Silvermoon had likewise assured her, she had feared their knowledge of her actions had caused bias and distraction while checking for continued taint. At last she showed respect out of gratitude, bowing slightly. The action received a slight smile as Kael seated himself before a strange device on one of the tables, though it vanished just as quickly as it appeared.

"What is your chosen path? … While civilians are welcome to come or go as they please, this particular camp has an agenda. If you can not fight, then you can not stay... There is also the matter of your encounter with this demon... We will be battling against the Legion along-side Lord Illidan. Weakness in the ranks will not be tolerated for it could spell all of our deaths."

Any thoughts of comfort quickly fled at the Prince's words. Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she debated. Such a decision could not be undertaken lightly, as with most armed ranks, changing ones mind would be impossible once she committed. But then... what more did she have? Banished from her homelands, with her only friendly kin being the ones who had been here, in Outlands, during the time of her foolish, power-hungry endeavors. Oh, her craving for power and recognition had not fled with the consequences, definitely not. Now more than ever she wished to prove herself worthy of praise and envy from those who scorned her.

What glory and recognition would be had from sitting idle in a refugee camp back in that barren waste? None what-so ever. However Kael held valid concerns were her fighting capabilities were in question. For even a lowly imp to frighten her... how would she face up against unbound demons hell bent on finishing what the doomguard had started.

Perhaps though, there were other options. As a warlock she held more than simple demons as her sources of power. While far too corrupted by demonic influence for the tamer elements to come when called, she had always had a talent for controlling the more chaotic fire. As a wielder of magics, she would no doubt be put in a support position for the front-line assaults, rather than directly in the line of fire. The demons would no doubt still unnerve her, but without her as their sole focus, she could perhaps put such nervous energy to good use against them.

Rising her gaze to meet Kael's squarely, she drew herself up to her full height, chin lifted with pride she did not feel at that moment, as she proclaimed,

"I will serve, my _King_, as a warlock in your forces."


End file.
